Babe please choose me

The next day, the campus gossip mill was spinning faster than a broken fan.

Mehak sat at the cafeteria table, staring blankly at her untouched sandwich. Her lips still tingled from yesterday behind the library. Every time she looked at Natasha across the room, a warm wave of electricity rushed straight to her toes.

Sana slammed her lunch tray down, shaking her head aggressively. "Earth to Mehak! You've been staring into space like a zombie who forgot how to moan. What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Mehak lied quickly, her cheeks turning bright red.

"Don't 'nothing' me," Sana squinted, pointing a half-eaten french fry at her. "I saw you hiding behind the library yesterday with the human hurricane. Watch yourself, Mehak. Natasha collects hearts like cheap keychains. She'll chew you up and spit you out."

Before Mehak could defend her, a new voice chimed in, smooth and dripping with mock sweetness.

"Oh, look, the campus security guard is worried about you," a voice purred from behind them.

It was Zara, Natasha's loud, glamorous best friend who knew every single scandal on campus before it even happened. Zara dropped into the empty seat next to Mehak, smelling heavily of cherry body spray and expensive lip gloss. She flipped her blonde-streaked hair over her shoulder and grinned. "Relax, snack-size. Natasha doesn't chew people up. She just drinks them slowly like an iced latte."

Before Sana could roll her eyes into another dimension, Natasha materialized beside them. She slid into the seat right next to Mehak, her shoulder pressing flush against Mehak's. Natasha smelled of vanilla, mint, and pure trouble.

Without saying a word to Sana or Zara, Natasha reached under the table. Her warm, soft fingers found Mehak's knee, gently tracing small, lazy circles through the fabric of Mehak's pastel skirt.

Mehak's breath hitched. Her entire body went rigid. She tried to move away, but Natasha's hand slid higher, gripping her thigh with a firm, possessive hold that sent a violent, delicious shiver straight up Mehak's spine.

"Having fun talking about me behind my back?" Natasha whispered, leaning her head close to Mehak's ear. Her hot breath tickled Mehak's skin, making Mehak's head spin.

"W-We weren't saying anything," Mehak whispered back, her voice shaking as Natasha's thumb brushed slow patterns against her skin under the table.

Zara chuckled, watching them with amusement. "Oh, please. Everyone knows you're her new favorite toy, sweetie. Just make sure you check your brakes before she drives you off a cliff."

"Shut up, Zara," Natasha said lightly, though her eyes never left Mehak's face. She tilted her head, her dark gaze dark and hungry. "Some cliffs are worth falling off."

Later that afternoon, Natasha dragged Mehak away from the noisy cafeteria and straight into the empty photography darkroom down the hall.

The room smelled of old chemicals and dust. The heavy red safety light cast a warm, crimson glow over everything, turning the small room into a secret, magical bubble far away from the rest of the world.

Before Mehak could even ask what they were doing, Natasha pushed the heavy door shut, locked it with a sharp click, and backed Mehak slowly against the smooth wooden counter.

"Natasha, someone might come in," Mehak breathed, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"The door is locked," Natasha murmured, stepping closer until there was zero space left between them. She placed both palms flat on the counter on either side of Mehak's hips, trapping her completely. "No one is coming in here. It's just you and me."

The red light caught the sharp angles of Natasha's face, making her look like a dangerous, beautiful painting. She reached out, her fingers gently tangling into Mehak's soft hair, tilting her head back.

"You've been distracted all day," Natasha whispered, her voice dropping into a low, sultry purr that made Mehak's knees turn to water. "Were you thinking about yesterday?"

Mehak's cheeks burned, but she couldn't look away from those dark, hypnotic eyes. "I... I don't know what you're doing to me, Natasha. I was straight. I never looked at a girl before. Why is it only you?"

Natasha smiled-a slow, wicked, incredibly proud smile. She leaned down, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of Mehak's neck, sending a fresh wave of heat washing over Mehak's body.

"Because you were never straight, my sweet marshmallow," Natasha whispered against her skin, her breath hot and heavy. "You were just waiting for the right fire to wake you up."

Mehak let out a soft, helpless gasp, her hands rising instinctively to grip the lapels of Natasha's leather jacket. The physical closeness was overwhelming, filling her senses with the intoxicating scent of vanilla and mint.

"Please..." Mehak whispered, her eyes slipping half-closed as Natasha's lips moved slowly up her neck, tracing a burning path toward her jaw. "Please don't play with me."

"I'm not playing," Natasha murmured softly.

She captured Mehak's lips in a deep, slow, hungry kiss. It wasn't rushed like the first time; it was thorough, deliberate, and utterly consuming. Natasha's tongue traced Mehak's lower lip, coaxing a soft moan from Mehak's throat before deepening the kiss. Her hands slid from Mehak's hair down her back, pressing her flush against her body until Mehak could feel the frantic, matching rhythm of Natasha's heartbeat.

Mehak's straight-laced world, her color-coded planners, her mother's strict rules-it all melted away into nothingness under the crimson red light of the darkroom. She gave in completely, her fingers clutching tighter at Natasha's jacket, pulling her closer into the dark, sweet trap.

By the time Natasha finally pulled back, leaving both of them breathless and flushed, Mehak was so deeply under her spell that even if a dozen Zeeshans had walked through that door with neon warning signs, Mehak wouldn't have cared at all.

The bell rang like a rude wake-up call, shattering the crimson-tinted magic of the darkroom.

Mehak stood frozen against the wooden counter, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her lips were swollen, her hair was slightly messy from Natasha's fingers, and her entire body hummed with a strange, dizzy kind of energy. She looked down at her pastel cardigan, wondering how the girl who had worn it that morning-safe, quiet, and ordinary-had completely vanished.

Natasha smoothly stepped back, adjusting her leather jacket with a cool, unbothered smirk. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small mirror, and checked her lip gloss as if they hadn't just rewritten the laws of physics in a supply closet.

"See?" Natasha teased softly, glancing sideways at Mehak with a wicked twinkle in her dark eyes. "Not so scary once you stop fighting it, is it?"

"You're impossible," Mehak breathed, her face burning hot as she quickly smoothed down her skirt. "If anyone had walked in-if Sana found out-"

"Sana eats spicy chips and judges everyone, darling. She doesn't scare me," Natasha laughed, a rich, musical sound. She reached out, casually grabbing Mehak's hand and intertwining their fingers. "Come on. Let's go face the boring world. But stay close to me."

As they walked out of the darkroom and back into the brightly lit hallway, Mehak felt a complete shift in reality. Walking side by side with Natasha, feeling the warm, firm grip of Natasha's hand locked with hers, the ordinary school corridors suddenly felt electric. Students whispered and glanced their way, but for the first time, Mehak didn't shrink away or pull her hand back. The intoxicating high of Natasha's attention had completely overwritten her fear.

Later that evening, the reality check arrived in the form of a cramped dorm room and a very suspicious roommate.

Mehak sat at her small wooden desk, staring blankly at her laptop open to an economics spreadsheet, but her brain was entirely somewhere else. Her phone lay right beside the keyboard, glowing softly every few seconds with incoming texts.

Across the room, Sana was aggressively painting her toenails neon pink. She blew on her toes, narrowed her eyes, and looked up at Mehak through the mirror.

"Okay, spill," Sana demanded, pointing the nail polish brush dangerously close to Mehak's direction. "You disappeared for an entire study period today, you came back looking like a Victorian ghost who just discovered caffeine, and your lips look like you ran face-first into a brick wall. What is going on?"

Mehak's heart skipped a beat. She quickly touched her lips, her cheeks flushing bright crimson. "N-Nothing is going on, Sana. I was just... helping in the photography room."

"In the darkroom? With the human hurricane?" Sana snorted, setting the nail polish down with a loud clack. "Mehak, honey, please. You are a walking neon sign right now. That girl is dangerous. She's got a trail of broken hearts behind her longer than a grocery receipt, and you're walking right into the blender."

"She's not like that with me," Mehak said defensively, though her voice lacked its usual strength.

"Oh, sweet summer child," Sana sighed, shaking her head. "Everyone thinks they're the special exception until they're crying into a tub of ice cream at 3:00 AM listening to sad Taylor Swift songs. Just... keep your eyes open, okay? And wear a helmet."

Mehak didn't answer. She turned back to her computer, but the moment Sana turned off her desk lamp to go to sleep, Mehak's hand flew to her phone.

She unlocked the screen. A new message from Natasha was waiting.

Natasha: Are you thinking about me, marshmallow? Because I can't focus on my homework. Meet me by the courtyard fountain in ten minutes. Don't wake Sana.

Mehak stared at the screen, biting her lower lip. Every warning Sana had given her echoed in the back of her mind. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew Natasha was trouble wrapped in designer leather.

And yet, three minutes later, Mehak was quietly slipping her shoes on, opening the creaky dorm door, and stepping out into the cool night air to answer the call of her favorite disaster.